Because Then They are Big

There are times in this life when we think the clock has all but stopped. When we’re little, we can’t wait for our birthday or Christmas. In high school, we can’t see past graduation. For many of us, we eagerly await the arrival of Prince Charming. Sometimes it’s a promotion, or the envelope with our tax return to come in the mail (ha!). We wait for vacation. We wait for a spouse to return home from war. We wait for a child to arrive home safely from their first drive around town alone. We wait for the school day to end.

But I doubt if there is much we wait for that compares to the days before a baby arrives. We wash the little clothes, prepare the crib, watch for every possible symptom of labor. The days drag on, and on, and oooooon.

Then they are born.

And that’s when someone pushes the fast-forward button.

I know every mother sits and tries her hardest to figure out the answer to this question, but can someone please tell me how we got from this sleepy little boy:

To this one:

…in the course of, like, one day?

It just doesn’t make any sense to me.

Two years old. That sounds so… big. There’s no way I can call him a baby anymore. He’s a little boy now.

I was looking through the pictures this morning of when Troy was born and marveling at how tiny he was. His little features, the blonde hair I was so surprised to see, the little fingers and toes. I reminisced about the days of learning to nurse him, and lazy mornings just playing in our jammies when he was just learning to giggle.

But then I realize with a start that as fast as these past two years have gone, I’m sure it’ll just snowball from here on out, time going faster and faster until these little boys are both grown.

It won’t be long until Troy is not just a little big boy, but a true big boy. When he’ll no longer say, “Luh loo, Mommy,” but, “Hey, love ya, Mom.” He’ll soon forget about Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and The Doodlebops and move on to movies with real people. Instead of spending ten minutes figuring out how to put a chunky puzzle piece in place, he’ll be needing help with multiplication tables and spelling tests. He’ll be done taking his little brown and white plastic doggie for walks and he’ll be spending hours playing Frontier Man in the backyard. He’ll read books on his own and draw his own pictures.

And then, I’ll turn to stir a pot on the stove, turn back around, and find a grown man standing in front of me. I pray he’ll be a man who loves Jesus and trusts Him for his salvation. A man who has harnessed his strong spirit into strength of character. Who will, in turn, raise up another generation of little ones and lead them to Jesus.

I know when this little guy is tall enough for me to rest my head on his shoulder, I’ll be thinking back to his sweet little smile and when he said, “Yes man!” instead of, “Yes ma’am!” I’m praying I don’t look back and regret spending too much unnecessary time at that stove or running errands or, most definitely, on the computer. That I have plenty of memories of books read, crafts and messes made, times of training, and lots of those great big smiles.

Going into my oldest’s third year of life, I’m realizing that what every parent has always said is only too true–time does indeed fly by. So I’m going to make the most of this next year with my little guys, cherishing every little second. Because there’s nothing I would rather do.

Originally written and published at Heart and Home on March 27, 2008